“Met with an accident; got a fall, broke my head, like to have lost my wig. Wish the masquerade at old Nick! thought it would cost nothing, or would not have gone. Warrant sha'n't get me so soon to another!” “Did you fall in going home, Sir?” “Ay, ay, plump in the kennel; could hardly get out of it; felt myself a going, was afraid to tear my cloaths, knew the rascal would make me pay for them, so by holding up the old sack, come bolt on my face! off pops my wig; could not tell what to do; all as dark as pitch!” “Did not you call for help?” “Nobody by but scrubs, knew they would not help for nothing. Scrawled out as I could, groped about for my wig, found it at last, all soused in the mud; stuck to my head like Turner's cerate.” “I hope, then, you got into a hackney coach?” “What for? to make things worse? was not bad enough, hay?--must pay two shillings beside?” “But how did you find yourself when you got home, Sir?” “How? why wet as muck; my head all bumps, my cheek all cut, my nose big as two! forced to wear a plaister; half ruined in vinegar. Got a great cold; put me in a fever; never been well since.” “But have you had no advice, Sir? Should not you send for a physician?” “What to do, hay? fill me with jallop? can get it myself, can't I? Had one once; was taken very bad, thought should have popt off; began to flinch, sent for the doctor, proved nothing but a cheat! cost me a guinea, gave it at fourth visit, and he never came again!---warrant won't have no more!” Then perceiving upon the table some dust from the black lead pencil, “What's here?” cried he, angrily, “who's been cutting the pencil? wish they were hanged; suppose it's the boy; deserves to be horsewhipped: give him a good banging.” Cecilia immediately cleared him, by acknowledging she had herself been the culprit. “Ay, ay,” cried he, “thought as much all the time! guessed how it was; nothing but ruin and waste; sending for money, nobody knows why; wanting 600 pounds--what to do? throw it in the dirt? Never heard the like! Sha'n't have it, promise you that,” nodding his head, “shan't have no such thing!” “Sha'n't have it?” cried Cecilia, much surprised, “why not, Sir?” “Keep it for your husband; get you one soon: won't have no juggling. Don't be in a hurry; one in my eye.”